


Crush

by Writcraft



Series: First Love [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7051861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius Malfoy is in love with Harry Potter.  That thing with Al was just a distraction.  Wasn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wand in a Knot 24 Hour Porn Challenge. May require editing.

**des·per·a·tion** _noun_ a state of despair, typically one that results in rash or extreme behaviour.

~

The lake at Hogwarts is warm enough just to dip my toes in, watching the ripples spread outwards from my ankles. It’s a dangerous game. There’s all sorts lurking beneath the surface and one wrong move could see me pulled under faster than I could draw my wand to fend off any as yet unknown danger. Al dived in one day and he ended up in the infirmary for a week after swallowing some kind of magical algae that turned his hair green. I teased him about his Slytherin pride and told him he looked good in green. He did and he still does. Just like his dad.

“You know better than that, Scorpius.”

Speak of the devil. “Sorry.” I pull my feet from the lake and watch the water drip, drip onto the surface from my bony toes. When I look up, Harry Potter’s smiling down at me as the setting sun catches his face just so. It makes his cheekbones seem more pronounced than usual, his scar almost fiery in the setting sun. “Are you going to take house points?”

“I’m not sure I can.” Harry laughs and sits next to me, staring out at the water. He pulls his knees up to his chest and we listen to things move beneath the water as he drops his chin on his knees. “I’m just here to talk a bit about the Ministry apprenticeships after supper.” He gives me a side-long look. “Besides, I’m sure I got up to worse than a bit of a paddle in my day.”

“That’s what dad says.” I give Harry a look from the corner of my eye. He’s so handsome it makes my heart do this strange fluttery thing and I have to look away before he catches the heat rising in my cheeks. “He says you did all sorts of stupid things.” I don’t mean to let it slip out, but it does. I hope Harry isn’t angry, I always say the wrong thing when he’s around. It’s like my words just spill out of me before I can stop them and I start babbling on about things I’d never talk about to anyone. He does that to people. Me, in particular.

“I bet.” Harry rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t sound cross. He’s probably used to dad being a prat where he’s concerned by now. “What do you have planned for the summer?”

“I thought I might go for that apprenticeship myself. If you think I’d be in with a shot?” I hold my breath, hoping Harry’s response isn’t to start laughing.

He doesn’t, of course. He’s far too nice for that. “You should. Your dad says your marks are excellent. Although, I think he’s expecting you to go to Gringotts.”

“He knows me better than that.” I pull a face and wonder when dad’s been sitting around with Harry, talking about my school work. “I want to be an Unspeakable or an Auror. Like you.” I can’t believe I’m leaving Hogwarts. I’m an adult, finally. I wonder if Harry sees me like that – serious and ready to get out in the world and make peoples heads spin.

“Well make sure you fill in an application form, then.” Harry gives me a nudge and he smells delicious – like light, musky cologne and broom polish. “I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

“I will.” My body zings with energy as the warmth from Harry’s body spreads through me. I doubt there’s anywhere better in the world to be than watching the sun set over Hogwarts with Auror Potter. I shift closer still. If I leaned in just a little bit, I could almost brush my-

He stands and the moment’s ruined, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder. “Better go. I’ve got to see McGon-the Headmistress before we eat. I think she wants to make sure I don’t accidentally encourage you all to go flying Hippogriffs around after your exams or anything.”

“I’m sure we can come up with ways to be reckless all on our own.” I flash him a smile, the kind Al says is all teeth and cheek. I stretch back and make sure he can see the lines of my body, taut beneath my school trousers and shirt. 

Harry smiles, his eyes not leaving mine. A flash of something crosses his face – something sad – then it disappears as quickly as it came. “See you later, then. Don’t forget about that application.”

“Yeah.” I can’t help but stare after Harry as he walks away. I wonder if he’d understand. Sometimes I feel like he’s the only one who might. “See you later.”

*

It hits the _Prophet_ in a whirlwind and it makes dad stomp around the house like he’s going to give birth to a litter of kneazles.

“What the blazes is he thinking? He’s going to get himself _Crucioed_ for this.”

“I think it’s brave.”

Dad glares at me. “You would. Eat your coq au vin and put that blasted paper away.”

I pull a face, Harry’s earnest expression and his words etched on my brain.

_We think we’re better than the Muggles because we have magic and things they could never understand, but the truth is they’re decades ahead of us when it comes to fighting for the right to love someone of the same gender. Decades. It’s out here, in the wizarding world. These issues impact our sons, our daughters, our parents, our grandparents and our friends. I loved my wife. I also loved a man, once. I’d like to again if I could. At the very least, I intend to fight for the right to love whomever I choose._

The pictures show Harry in the middle of a crowd, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley at his side. Granger looks proud as punch, a rainbow badge on her smart blazer. Dad thinks she’s annoying, but I think she’s cool. He’s just jealous because she beat him in all his NEWTs. I can’t seem to stop touching the rainbow flag behind Harry’s head. It’s bright where the rest of the paper is dull black and white print. 

I push my chicken around on my plate and wonder who he was, this man of Harry’s.

He must be stupid. If I had a chance with Harry, I’d never let him go.

*

When I’m sure dad’s fast asleep, I get the paper from downstairs. I read it under the duvet with a quietly cast _Lumos_.

Harry’s smiling in one of the pictures, his eyes fixed on someone behind the camera. Someone I can’t see. I wonder who makes him smile like that and imagine he’s smiling at me. Sometimes, I wonder. He’s a bit older but he still looks so young when he sits with his knees pulled up to his chest at the Great Lake. He gets pissed in the Leaky Cauldron surrounded by Weasleys and it’s Harry this and Harry that. They’re always laughing, Harry and his friends. They sing and dance like idiots and look like they couldn’t give a flying fuck what people think about them. I think I’d like to be part of that. Not just Al’s friend and _Malfoy’s_ son. I’d like to be Scorpius. Most of all I’d like to be _Harry’s_.

I trail my fingers down my stomach. It’s toned and warm. I’ve been working on getting the perfect body for the summer, largely so I can strip off my t-shirt and hope Harry happens to walk in when I’m oh so innocently dressing for a hard day in the office.

It’s so _good_ thinking about Harry. I imagine what he would look like, flushed and wanting. I picture those Muggles in my magazines with hard muscles and leather slicing across broad, clean-shaven chests. Harry wouldn’t be like that. He’d have dark hair and he’d be lithe and supple and there wouldn’t be any leather at all. Just the clean scent of soap and the rough slide of denim on my thighs.

I bite back a groan as my hand finds its way to my cock. I’m already hard. Even _thinking_ about Harry gets me so eager for him. I wrap my fingers around myself and take my time. It’s Harry, _stroke_ , Harry, _stroke_ and it’s good enough to leave me panting and breathless. I rub my thumb over the tip of my prick and say Harry’s name like he’s my salvation. In a way, I think he might have been.

_It’s okay, because Harry is too. It’s really okay_

I wonder if he knows what he’s done. I wonder what he’s going to do next. My stomach curls with anticipation and my heart _thud, thuds_. I stroke my hand faster, as I fight back the desperate urge to come for Harry’s pictures and his rainbow flags. There are few things as sexy as being brave, handsome and having the best smile in England.

I hitch my legs up, spreading them wide and kick the duvet off. It falls to the floor with the papers and a very different kind of image fills my mind. It’s Harry settling over me, promising to take it slow. He’s sliding those slim fingers of his inside me and he’s stretching me open. He’s whispering my name as if perhaps I’m his salvation too.

I come with Harry’s name falling from my lips in a hushed whisper. 

Gods, I want him. I want him so much I can hardly breathe.

*

I stay with Al just before my apprenticeship starts. Of everyone he could have picked, Harry picked me and I think that’s got to mean something. Dad’s been having kittens about it. I love my dad when he’s not being an arse or embarrassing me to high heaven, but I can’t imagine anything more boring than talking about other peoples money all day. It means he’s ended up having to take a Weasley, which he’s not letting me forget about in a hurry. Dad’s lucky, even if he thinks too much ginger hair might be off-putting when he’s trying to close a trade. Rose is miles better than me at Arithmancy and she actually finds that kind of thing cool and interesting. I made dad promise not to be a total dick to her. I think he might even listen, for once.

Just after midnight I hear the door open. Harry’s home. It’s not long before I realise he’s not alone. I can’t breathe, every bit of air caught in my throat and trapped there as if it might not ever come out again. I wish I could hear him, this other man. Harry’s laughing and murmuring something which sounds like _not here_.

Al snuffles and rolls over, snoring. I reach over and poke him in the side until he stops. I want to hear, but I don’t. I really, really don’t.

There’s a creak of the floorboards and another laugh. They’re heading for the bedroom. This isn’t Weasley or Granger coming back for a late night drink. The low tone alongside Harry’s is masculine and familiar but I can’t quite place it, or make out the words.

I close my eyes and breathe, my heart pounding out of my chest.

“Al. _Al_.”

“What’s the matter?” He blinks at me, bleary eyed and cross. “What’s going on?”

“Your dad. He’s got someone back with him.”

“Oh.” Al’s eyes widen and then he presses his ear to the wall, as if that’s going to help. We’re about three rooms away from Harry’s. I know because I had a look around Harry’s room once when Al wanted to borrow one of his t-shirts for a night out in Muggle London.

“It’s a _man_.”

“Yeah, so?” Al gets this fierce look when he’s defending his family and he sits upright, crossing his arms. He’s got the most ridiculous pyjamas on – covered in stupid cartoon snakes. I hate him a little bit. I hate everything. 

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Better not.” Al fiddles with the hem of his pyjamas and he looks down, his cheeks hot red. “I don’t care, what’s it to you?”

“I’d like to fuck a man, I think.” I say it quietly but it still sounds too loud in the still room.

“You would?” Al looks up, his gaze sharp. “Because you think it might be a laugh?”

“Yeah, Al.” Christ, he’s so obtuse I want to smack him. “Because I want to have a funny shag. Doesn’t everyone?”

Al’s so red now it spreads from his collarbone to the roots of his hair. He’s still tugging at the bottom of his pyjama leg, his legs crossed beneath him as he stares at the bed.

“I wouldn’t mind, either.” He’s quiet, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m not sure I like witches all that much. Not like that.”

I stare at Al in his daft pyjamas, blushing as hard as I’ve ever seen anyone blush.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat, then I slide back in my bed and lift the cover. It’s Jamie’s bed. He’d fucking kill us, but thankfully he’s in New York slagging around with American witches who apparently love a British accent and a bit of wartime name dropping. I love Jamie but he can’t half be a prick sometimes.

“Do you want to try it?”

Al stares at me, then shrugs. He looks as if he couldn’t care less but something tells me he just might. 

“Suppose.”

“Come on, then.”

Al stumbles across from his bed to mine, falling into it with a snort and a laugh. “Christ, pins and needles. Sorry.”

“No problem.” I can hear them. Harry and whoever it is. I can’t hear much, but if I strain hard enough I can catch a low groan here and a creaking of the bed there. For a powerful wizard you’d think he might have mastered silencing charms. Perhaps my dad’s right. Perhaps Harry really is a bit of an idiot.

“Scorpius?” Al’s not laughing anymore, his breath hot and sweet on my cheek. He’s sweet, Al is. Sweet and _young_. He’s not Harry, but he’s good-looking and it’s not like I’m getting it anywhere else. I brush his hair back from his forehead and he lets out this breath as if he’s going to spontaneously combust just from that. My hand’s trembling and I clench it into a fist. It’s _Al_. He’s been my best friend forever. It doesn’t mean a thing.

“It’s just messing around, yeah? To see what it’s like?”

There’s a pause, then Al presses closer. “Yeah, okay.”

“Sure?” My heart’s pounding and I can’t hear Harry anymore. All I can hear is Al breathing in my ear and _fuck_ he’s mouthing at my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

“Sure.” It’s a low murmur, cut off with another kiss to my throat. He’s good at this. Where the fuck did Al learn how to trace a kiss along the column of my throat as if he’s done this a hundred times before.

“Have you done anything before?”

“Bits,” Al says. That. That’s unexpected. “Just kissing and stuff. Not anything else.”

“Who?”

“Does it even matter?” Al’s voice is husky and dark like nothing I’ve ever heard before. I didn’t think I’d be getting hard from Al and his cartoon pyjamas, but I am. I’m aching for it. If Harry can fuck someone else, so can I. 

“Suppose not.” I slide my hand into Al’s hair and tug him close. His breath leaves him in a bitten-off gasp. His hair is silky smooth, his body hard and sliding against mine. It’s like he knows just what to do to send those sparks of pleasure through my veins. I tug him into a kiss and he licks into my mouth, cocky and confident. Fucking _Al_. He’s Slytherin to the end, that one. I might have known he’d like to bite, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s all I can say, pushing him onto his back and sliding my tongue against his. I want to fuck him. I want to feel him shuddering beneath me and see him looking up at me with those green eyes of his, blown wide with arousal.

“Cool.” Al shifts and we’re changing positions until he’s on top, pressing down against me. The layers of flannel between us are too thick, too hot. I want to take control but there’s something in the way he kisses me that makes me trust him. Strange, that. I didn’t think I could trust anyone like this. Not like I could trust Harry. Al pulls back from the kiss, breathless and smiling. “I’ve got lube.”

“Christ, Al.” I laugh into his mouth and he’s laughing too, tugging down my pyjamas and sliding off his own. “What the fuck do we need that for?”

“Thought you said you wanted to fuck?” Al pulls back for a moment, confused. “Or I could…you know…my fingers?”

Oh. _Oh_.

“Fine. Fingers. That’s okay, I think.”

“Yeah?” Al sounds delighted and then he’s kissing me again, grinding against me and when did we get so _naked_? It’s like the best and the worst thing because I can’t tell Al I’m in love with his dad. Not when he’s my best friend and he’s smiling at me like I hung the bloody moon. 

“I said so, didn’t I?” I catch his hand and he pushes mine over my head, grinding down in that maddening way of his. I wonder if he’s practiced this with pillows, like I have. I wonder if all this time Al’s been sleeping in the dungeons and tugging himself off to the idea of having a moment just like this.

“Shit, sorry.” The kisses are so blindingly good I almost miss the cool damp on my leg and the snort of laughter from Al.

“Did you….?”

“Nope. Spilled the lube.”

“Oh. Doesn’t matter.”

“Got it now.” Al’s fingers are there. Right there. Sliding against me and creating sparks of pleasure which lead straight to my cock. It’s so good. Just that. Just his fingers, pressing and rubbing until I’m a mess and I can’t even trust myself to speak. He’s not even inside yet but I’m so close, my prick aching and hard for him. For Al. He whispers in my ear, gruff and eager. “Can I suck you?”

“Okay.” My voice doesn’t sound the same. It’s a rough croak, the word spilling out in staggered syllables. I never thought I could feel so desperate for this. For my best friend’s fingers inside me. 

Al kisses me breathless. “ _Brilliant_.” 

Al mouths at my cock, taking it into his mouth with a slurp. It’s stupid and embarrassing but I can’t even care because it feels so good. Al’s mouth is tight and hot, his lips plump and slick with saliva. He’s obviously sorted the lube out because just as I’m about to come harder than I’ve come in my life, his finger slides inside me. It’s tentative at first, crooked and pulling back.

“I read about this,” he says, which means his mouth isn’t on my cock anymore.

“Bully for you.” I grip his hair and push him down again. “I don’t need a fucking science lesson, make me come, will you?”

Al’s laughing until suddenly he’s not. It’s all heat, saliva and his slick fingers stretching me open until I’m practically _mewling_ and Malfoy’s don’t do that. They shouldn’t, at least. I have no idea what Al’s been reading but I’m going to have to borrow a copy. I put my fist in my mouth as I come in his mouth, hard and desperate. I call back my shout and muffle it with my knuckles, throwing my arm over my eyes. 

“Oi.” Al’s breathless and he comes back up to move my arm and make me look at him. His eyes are so green and full of humour. “I hope you’re planning to wank me off, at least.” He takes my hand and pushes it down to his cock. It’s thicker than I expected and hard in my hand. He’s throbbing, a pulse _thudding_ with the beating of my heart. He’s so close and when he looks at me like I’m everything, I want him to come with my name on his lips.

I kiss him, and he does.

*

It’s weird after that, me and Al.

“I’m in love with someone,” I tell him. I’ve had too much tequila and my brain’s full of booze and Harry.

“Me too.” He licks his lips and looks away, his cheeks pink.

“So we shouldn’t…anymore?”

We haven’t, since. It’s all I can do to get drunk enough to talk about it now I’m at the Ministry and working with Harry every day. The _Prophet_ seems to think Harry’s single and fighting for queer liberation for some strange purpose of his own. The man mustn’t have been anyone. Just a fuck. No one important. It’s vital I put every effort into making Harry _see_. 

“Oh.” Al looks at me, his brow furrowed. He has the same angry look about him Harry sometimes gets, chin jutting mulishly. “No. I suppose not. Hope he’s worth it, whoever he is.”

“Oh yes,” I say. Because he definitely is.

Al leaves shortly after and I get out my books.

It’s time to put my plan into action.

*

When it’s finished, it’s opalescent and it shimmers with promise. A stray beam of sunlight finds its way into the dusty space and the potion turns all the colours of the rainbow; pastel-hued and beautiful. It takes my breath away and that seems apt, somehow. I don’t think I’d go through with my plan at all if the potion had been muted and dull. It wouldn’t seem right, not for Harry. Sometimes I think Harry shines brighter than the stars.

“Scorpius?”

I cast a charm which keeps the potion hidden and a quick flick of my wand clears the scent of brewing from the air. I settle at my desk and look as if I’ve been pouring over a dull book on something Unspeakable related for hours.

“It’s open.”

“It’s a gorgeous day. You’re working too hard.” The door opens and Harry leans against the frame, all long-limbed and casual. He’s wearing his jeans again and a jumper with the name of some faded Muggle rock-band on the front. He never wears his robes around the Ministry. He says it’s because they’re fussy and far too grand for the daytime. Dad says it’s because Harry wouldn’t know fine tailoring if it bit him on the backside. He really doesn’t like Harry much.

“I’m nearly finished.” I stretch just enough to let my t-shirt ride above the waist of my trousers. I know I look good. Summer’s my best season. I tan brilliantly and my hair goes whiter than usual in the sun. I’m a Malfoy that knows how to sunbathe, unlike father. I think he’s getting even more translucent and pointy by the day. Not that he cares. When I told him people will start thinking he’s a vampire he laughed and threatened to take away my pocket money for a month for my cheek. That soon shut me up.

“Come on, then. I’ll take you for a pint. If we’re very persuasive we might even convince your dad to come with us.” Harry winks like we’re sharing some sort of secret and it takes the sting from his words. Even when dad clearly thinks Harry’s a chocolate frog short of a packet, Harry hates leaving people out. I can’t decide if it’s brilliant or really bloody annoying. 

“He’s not going to come to the Leaky if that’s what you think. You might as well ask him to go back to Azkaban.”

“Scorpius.” Harry gives me a serious look, thinking I can’t see his lips twitch at the corner. “That’s not something to joke about.”

“Fine,” I huff. I grab my jacket and shrug it on, giving Harry a nudge. “Go and get him, then. I’ll see you in your office. I just need to pack my things.”

“Don’t be too long. We wouldn’t want to miss the sun.” Harry looks out of the window and his something wistful passes over his strong features. Sometimes I feel like there’s so much bubbling beneath the surface with Harry that nobody really understands. He’s always smiling and bright, laughing in the corridors and surrounded by friends. He does all these impressive things and then sometimes I’ll catch him looking strange and not quite there. Like now, when he stares at the sun as though he might not see it again. The expression on his face makes everything inside me hurt. 

I wave him off and when I’m sure he’s not coming back I bottle up the potion. It’s not the sort of potion that’s going to hurt anyone. It’s expensive and made with the finest ingredients money can buy. It’s just a little something to help Harry sleep. He told me once after one pint too many that he doesn’t really sleep at all these days. I don’t know why or how. How can someone be in charge of so many things without sleeping?

The potion should help with that. 

I can’t be held responsible for the fact I might have tailored it a little bit to make sure he dreams of me.

Can I?

*

Dad’s already in Harry’s office by the time I make it downstairs, the freshly brewed potion warm in my pocket. He’s gone for the Muggle look today – his hair slicked back and his ankle hooked over his knee as he murmurs something to Harry. Whatever he says, it makes Harry laugh until he’s rosy-cheeked and relaxed. He rakes a hand through his hair and I can’t help but take a moment just to watch him. His eyes shine and he leans forward to respond to dad, his voice low and teasing. His response makes dad snort and I can just make out the lazy drawl of _Potter_ that leaves dad’s lips.

Dad’s never called Harry _Harry_. It’s always _Potter_ or _Scarhead_ and, lately, _that ridiculous boss of yours_. 

“I’m finished.”

Dad turns, giving me a look. “Drinking after work again, Scorpius?”

I give him my cheekiest smile, the one Al says makes me look even better than usual. “You too, father.” I always call him father when he annoys me. I like to think it makes him feel old.

Dad ignores me. “We’re not going to the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Told you.” I give Harry a look and he rolls his eyes at me, smiling. It makes my heart pitter-patter and something warm settles in my belly when he winks at me. “He wants to go somewhere fancy with Muggle bankers talking about the stock market.” I pat my hand over my mouth, delighted when Harry laughs, low and warm.

“I doubt they’d let Potter in, dressed like that.” Dad gives Harry a look, up and down.

“I’m not going to Canary Wharf. I’ve got somewhere else in mind.” Harry’s got that enthusiastic look that I love the best – the one that makes him look as young as ever with his eyes shining and his cheeks flushed. 

“Marvelous.” Dad sounds like it isn’t marvelous at all, but he still stands close enough to Harry to block my path to him. “I can hardly wait.”

“Don’t be rude,” I say. I nudge dad with my elbow and he gives me a look.

“Come on, Potter. The suspense is killing me.”

“Apparate here. I’ll be waiting.”

Harry gives us an address on a crumpled piece of paper and Apparates with a crackle of magic. The room tastes like chocolate, power and _Harry_.

I don’t miss the fact that the lingering taste of Harry’s magic makes dad shiver. Maybe he’s not half as immune to Harry’s charm as he’d have me believe.

The thought makes me unspeakably happy. 

Maybe he won’t be upset about me and Harry after all.

*

I slip the potion into Harry’s drink when he’s arguing with dad about his latest campaign. They’re so wrapped up in one another, they don’t even notice when I get the drinks from the bar and put a couple of drops in Harry’s pint. It’s just enough, I think. I hope.

“Can’t you stop?” I put the drinks on the table and shiver when Harry takes a healthy glug of his pint. Not long, now.

“Stop talking about Potter being an idiot?” Dad snorts and gives Harry a look. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t know why you care so much, anyway.” Harry meets dad’s gaze head on and something passes between them – something I don’t understand. “It was time. It _is_ time. I don't want to hide anymore.”

“It’s important,” I pipe up. My heart catches in my throat when dad looks at me for once. His gaze flickers over my face, his expression smooth.

“Why on earth does Potter’s latest idiotic cause matter to you?”

I breathe out, my body hot and my mind a little fuzzy from the alcohol. “Because I’m gay. That’s why.”

Harry swallows and he pauses, drink in hand. “Draco.” 

“Just…don’t.” Dad rubs his forehead and doesn’t look at either of us. The air in the pub is stifling. I can’t bring myself to look at dad, so I look at Harry instead.

 _Draco_.

I’ve never heard him call dad anything other than Malfoy. His lips are set in a grim line and he repeats it again, his hand on my father’s arm. It lingers for longer than it should. “Draco?”

“This is your fault.” Dad hisses out his words, snatching his arm away. He stares at me, his face red and angry. “This is all your bloody fault, Potter. You and your fucking rainbows.”

“If you want me to move out, I will.” I’m brave, all of a sudden. I’m Scorpius Malfoy and it’s not going to be long at all before Harry’s in love with me. I’ve had a few pints and I can do anything. I can even tell father I’m queer. That’s more than I could have done before Harry and his _Prophet_ articles. “I’ll find somewhere else. I know it’s not who you want me to be.” It still sends a dagger into the pit of my stomach which twists uncomfortably as dad gives me that pained look which tells me he doesn’t know quite where to put me. I wish he wouldn’t look at me like that. I wish it didn’t hurt. I’m being brave. Being brave shouldn’t be so painful.

“For fuck’s sake.” Harry’s voice is a low, firm murmur. He’s got his hand back on dad’s arm again and he squeezes, hard. When did Harry get to touch dad like that? Dad doesn’t like being touched. He’s never liked it, not since Azkaban.

“Stop. Don’t.” Despite his words, dad reaches for Harry and their fingers twine. I watch Harry down his pint with a grimace as if something tastes off. Then they’re looking at me and it’s so fucking serious I think my heart’s going to implode.

“You hate him. Stop it.” I bat dad’s hand away from Harry’s because I’m drunk, stupid and a teenager in love. He holds on tight.

“Scorpius…”

Oh, God. I know that voice. That _I’ve got something to tell you_ voice. All of a sudden I can almost picture them with their _not here’s_ and their stupid fucking _Potter_ and _Malfoy_ banter. I know in an _Avada Kedavra_ flash that the way Harry looks sad when he looks at me sometimes has nothing to do with _me_. It’s because I remind him of someone else.

“I’m in love with your dad,” Harry says. He gives me an encouraging look because this – this is what he’s been building up to. This is why he wanted me to like him.

“I couldn’t care less.” I stare at him and I want to hate him. I really do. Instead my heart shatters from the inside out and it’s all I can do not to look at him because he’s going to know. As soon as he falls asleep he’s going to see the heart of me and there’s nothing I can do to take it back. So I tell him I’m sorry and I run away from the pub until every part of me hurts and it almost masks the pain in my chest, which is the worst of all.

*

I don’t get out of bed for two days.

I make the house-elves bring me food and try to fire-call Al. I miss my best friend, but he doesn’t seem to want to talk to me anymore.

“You’re a bloody idiot.” Dad breaks through the barricades and sits on the edge of my bed with a disdainful sniff, looking around my room as if the sight of the mess physically hurts. “Do you have any idea what that potion did to him?”

“It wasn’t dangerous.” I glare at dad and pull my duvet up to my chin. It’s difficult to maintain dignity when you haven’t showered for days. “I wanted to help him sleep.”

“No you didn’t.” Dad tugs off my duvets and gives my thigh a light slap. “Shower, will you? I want you to come downstairs and apologise to Potter.”

“Fine.” I do as he says, not because I want to but because I’m bored of sitting in my room and feeling sad. My stomach rolls at the thought of Harry looking at me as if he's disappointed. I step under the scalding spray and tilt my head to the ceiling, letting the water pound down on my body. I just want everything to stop hurting.

*

Harry's quiet and serious as he sits next to dad and sips on a cup of tea.

“He’s here so you can give him the rest of the potion, apologise and that’s going to be the end of it.” Dad doesn’t look at Harry. Instead he sits next to me, staring at the table.

“Hi,” I say. It’s ridiculous, but I’m not sure what else I can do or say. I put down the rest of the potion and push it uselessly across the table. “I'm sorry." 

Harry turns the potion in his hands and shrugs. “It's okay. You can come back to work, if you want.”

“Really?” I swallow and look quickly at dad, who nods his head. “I'd like to, if I can. I really do want to be an Unspeakable.” It's true. The more time I spent with my books and trying to get closer to Harry, the more I realised I could actually enjoy the job. Not because of Harry, because of me. Because it's challenging and interesting and I think I could be good at it.”

“I'll see you Monday, then.” Harry stands, his lips tugging into a small smile which doesn't reach his eyes. “No more potions, yeah?”

I nod, my stomach clenching. “Promise.” I watch him for a moment and try to muster a smile, to let him know I'm not pining over him - not anymore. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Harry looks at dad, who won’t meet his eyes and he finally meets my eyes, staring at me as if he can see me from the inside out.

“Doesn’t it?”

Dad doesn't say a word.

*

I spend my time in Muggle bars and I hate every single moment. I miss the way my dad used to make stupid comments about Harry or _Potter_. I miss drinks after work, reading big books and sitting close enough to Harry to hurt. He comes to see me less these days, sending Dawlish or Weasley to have long, serious discussions with me about my future. I suppose it still hurts him, seeing me. I miss talking about spells and the clever way Harry used to teach me about magic which made me see it in a whole new light.

Most of all, I miss Al. I miss his stupid fucking cartoon pyjamas. I miss the way he could always make me laugh and the taste of my name gasped out in one breathless kiss.

It's so unexpected, it hits me like a Bludger. I didn't expect to miss Al more than anyone, but I do. I miss him desperately.

If anyone’s ever needed a best friend it’s me and it’s now.

*

“You’re a prick,” Al says when we go for ice cream. He sucks it between his lips and it makes my body hotter than it should be on a cool summer’s day.

“I know.” I reach for the ice cream and he lets me have a taste. It’s mint choc chip and delicious. I pass it back as we walk through Diagon Alley. 

“I mean, a total prick.” Al looks at his ice cream as if it’s betrayed him. He turns to me, mutinous. “Dad’s a fucking mess and it’s all your fault.”

“The potion was a really bad idea.”

“It’s not even that.” Al jabs his ice cream in my direction. “Your dad won’t go near him now, you know that? Do you have any _idea_ what happened that night?”

I wince. I have some idea, because dad finally told me after too much whisky. Dream potions don’t work quite as well as they might when someone’s already on everything under the sun for insomnia they can’t quite shake, apparently. It sounded horrific - nightmares and panic attacks. I don’t know all the details but I know enough to be certain my ridiculous potion definitely didn’t help Harry relax and sleep easy.

“I didn't mean to hurt him. That's not what I wanted.”

Al's nose wrinkles. “No.”

Harry’s still out there, rainbow flags on his shoulders but it's not the same. His smile doesn't meet his eyes and his voice doesn't carry the same conviction. Now he looks weary and tired, like he’s not sure what he’s fighting for anymore.

“I didn’t know.”

“You did, though.” Al throws his ice cream in the bin after taking a bite of the cone. “You knew you wanted him when you did whatever that was with me. Were we in some sort of competition with them? Was that it? You’re such a selfish arse.”

I stare at him, messy hair and green eyes. He’s my best friend. He’s the best friend. He’s better for me than anyone I know – including Harry. I like the Slytherin in him. “It wasn’t about him, not at the time.”

“Liar.” Al looks like he’s missing his ice cream already. He’s so fucking young and beautiful my heart can’t stop its stupid _flutter, flutter_ for him. I’ve learned better than to trust my heart and extend my hand, all business.

“Friends again?”

Al narrows his eyes and shakes on it, before yanking me closer. His breath is ice-cream cold on my face. It’s minty fresh and ridiculous. 

“Or we could have a make-up fuck?”

“Fuck, Al.” I knew there was a reason we were best friends, once.

*

We slide into Jamie’s bed like it’s second nature, and maybe it is. Al’s breath is still as warm and sweet as ever it was but something’s changed. This time there’s no stupid pyjamas and me pining after his father. It’s just Al, me and a quiet room that feels like _ours_.

“I think I’m going to fuck you,” Al says. He pauses as he unbuckles his jeans. “If that’s okay?”

“It’s okay.” It’s more than okay. Al’s grown an inch over the summer. I think he reckons he’s tall now. He’s not, but he’s tall enough and I quite like it when he’s demanding. “I haven’t…”

“Obviously.” Al snorts.

“Have you?”

Al’s blush might be one of my favourite things about him. “Maybe.”

“Dickhead.” I aim it at Al, but it’s really about the other bloke. I hate that person, whoever he was. The realisation it could have been me hits me hard. “That’s who you were in love with?”

“Nope. That was you. Prick.” Al shrugs, sliding out of his jeans and he tugs his t-shirt over his head. “Don’t worry. I’m over it.”

“Don’t be.” I yank him close, warm hand in mine. “Don’t be over it, you ridiculous idiot.”

Al smiles, warm and sexy-shy. “Couldn’t be if I tried. Arsehole.”

“No.” My belly’s warm and Al’s smile settles over me like the best kind of blanket. He slides out of his boxers and he leaves me breathless in the most unexpected way. “I’m not in love with him anymore.”

“Better not be,” Al says. “That’d be weird.” He’s naked, I’m still fully clothed but I’m the one that’s ridiculously exposed. _Desperate_. I want to see Al in his stupid pyjamas. I want to sit up in bed with him and try to watch Muggle films in a house where Muggle shit goes crazy because of the magic. I want to laugh about it and tease him about eating the algae and turning himself into a turnip. I want to fuck him into the mattress and have him fuck me back until the only name falling from my lips is his. 

“I think I could be….”

“Don’t say it.” Al rolls his eyes and starts working on my belt. “We’ve got time.”

“Don’t you want to hear it though?”

Al’s eyes are the fiercest, brightest green I’ve ever seen. “One day. Not now. Not unless you mean it. I know you’re a Malfoy but try not to be a total fucking disaster, will you? We’re having…something. As long as I don’t remind you of my dad, we’re fine.”

I look at him, long and hard. It never occurred to me, that connection between them. Harry’s such a Gryffindor and Al’s so different. Al has the same eyes and stupid shock of black hair but then everything stops. He’s the kind of young I thought I could do better than. He’s got no interest in saving the world – he pretty much just wants a good shag, to play Quidditch and get the best NEWTs he can manage. 

“You couldn’t be more different,” I say. It’s not strictly true, but in so many ways it is. “I liked the green hair, by the way. You should do that again. On purpose this time.”

“You’re an idiot.” Al laughs and he sounds so fond it makes my heart swoop in a way it hasn’t since Harry. He cocks his head to one side and tugs at my jeans. “Do you actually want to fuck or are we just going to talk about my hair?”

“We’re going to fuck.” I tug off my jeans with ready eagerness, my heart pounding out of my chest. Even the gentlest slide of Al’s fingers on my chest feels so good. I didn’t know it could be like this without all the worry, without all the potion brewing and desperate, unrequited want. It’s easier with Al, better because I know with absolute certainty I matter to him. I don't have to try to read every strange expression or flicker of uncertainty. I already know him inside out. I know the way he likes his toast, the way he has his tea and I know how he feels and smells when he leans close after too many coconut shots.

“Where are you?” Al's voice contains a hint of nerves and I'm right back in the room with him. I tug his lip between my teeth as he slides his hands slowly down the length of my body. Al knows what he’s doing and it pains me more than it should. “Is it good?” He sounds more certain now, bold and confident.

“You know it is, fucking hell.”

I'm snappish because I'm bloody nervous. Al’s slick fingers slide inside me one at a time. He takes his time. The first doesn’t hit the spot but he’s slow and better than I deserve. He breathes hot, mint-choc-chip into my mouth and kisses me until I relax. He works one finger inside me, then two. He makes me slick with lube and _ready_. I wonder when this happened. When I started to want him so much I could hardly breathe.

His fingers push inside me, two now. My legs part and his warm lips trace kisses over my cock.

“Don’t want you to come until I’m inside you,” he whispers. He says it while he’s licking at the tip of my cock and fingering me senseless and it’s almost enough to make me come on the spot.

“Better hurry up then,” I tell him.

So he does. He slicks himself and slides on something I recognise from Muggle films.

“I thought we should…” He coughs and pushes against me. “It was a Muggle. I’ve been taught to be safe. We don’t really know if it’s an issue for us. Better to be safe than sorry, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” The thing is, Al’s always been my safe space and the fact even now he’s being safe with me makes me tremble more than it should. “Yeah, good idea.”

He pushes inside me and the slide is strange and invasive at first until he hits the spot. He pushes my knees back to my chest and fucks me like I matter. He kisses me until I’m coming in hard streams over my own chest with barely a cursory tug to my prick. He collapses on me, sliding out and tying off the condom which he flings in Jamie’s bin. James is _really_ going to kill us if Al doesn’t clean up before he gets back.

“Sleep, yeah?” Al mouths at the corner of my lips, sleep warm and sated.

“Sleep,” I agree and kiss him again, just because I can.

*

It’s four in the morning when I’m woken up by Al, ashen faced.

“It’s dad.”

“Okay.” I shake myself from sleep and follow him into Harry’s room, where Harry’s cowering in the corner with his head buried in his hands.

“It’s okay, dad. Shush, it’s okay.” Al looks at me, desperate and uncertain. “I don’t know what to do. There’s usually…someone else.”

“I’ll get dad.” It slips out, easily. I know who the unspoken someone else is and why he hasn’t been there for Harry. My heart constricts and a wave of guilt washes over me. I should have done this sooner, done this better. Only a Malfoy could claim to be in love with someone and leave them to drown.

“Just…”

“I’m sorry.”

Al stares at me, eyes bright and fierce. “Don’t be fucking sorry. Just make it right.”

*

He comes.

I wasn’t sure if he would, knowing dad. He’s not one for histrionics or giving up his comfortable satin sheets. Apparently when it’s Harry, it’s a different thing altogether.

I watch them, dad kneeling next to Harry and focusing on no one but him.

“Potter. Potter.”

“Malfoy?” Harry looks up, eyes dark and wet with tears. “It’s…a bad dream.”

“I know, darling.” Dad brushes his hair back from his forehead, his fingers damp with Harry’s sweat. “I know.”

“I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” Dad breathes it into Harry’s neck as if he thinks we can’t hear. He tugs Harry to his feet and bundles him into the kind of hug that would have left me fighting for air, once. “Come to bed.”

“Will you come too?” Harry pulls back and stares at dad, who glances at me. I nod, not that I should ever have had any say in this. I’m such a bloody idiot.

“Obviously.” Dad hesitates and then he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. “I’ll go wherever you go. Even if it involves fucking rainbows.”

Harry snorts with laughter and grips onto dad like he’s a lifeboat. “I just had to fight for it.”

“Of course you did.” Dad kisses Harry then and it’s so unexpected it takes my breath away. Not because I didn’t think it would happen but because of the way Harry melts against dad and lets him take control, his whole body shivering with a slow stroke of dad’s fingers down Harry’s spine. It’s not a long kiss but it’s already enough to show me there’s _so much_ I never knew about Harry. Those long looks at the sun like it might be the last time he feels warm. Those steady moments watching the water ripple and thinking of a past I never knew. Those speeches. The insistence that he wouldn’t wear robes, maybe because they reminded him of the Ministry in a different time.

The idea of Harry surrounded by rainbow flags makes me want to cry. A warm hand slips into mine and I look up at Al and his face tells me my emotions are written all over my face. He squeezes my hand and gives me a questioning look.

“Not because of that.” I say, although it’s not quite true. Because all of this is because of Harry in some way. Not in the kind of _I love you desperately_ sort of way. I have a feeling my heart's going to find another home pretty soon, or perhaps it already has. I’m just a ridiculous wreck of a person because even now – Harry’s still fighting. Even when there’s nobody threatening to kill him he’s standing at a lectern surrounded by rainbow flags and saying _take your best shot_. 

I watch my father kiss Harry again and hold him close, their words lost whispers Al and I will never fully understand. Because we never knew war, and we’re lucky. When my dad takes Harry to bed I take Al’s hand and hold it tight.

It doesn’t hurt.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

_~Fin~_

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